


The Ghost Watches

by fuckyatta



Series: The Ghost Watches [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Incest, F/F, Implied one sided pharah/mercy, Implied past ana/mercy, Incest, Parent/Child Incest, Porn With Plot, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-30 01:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12097491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyatta/pseuds/fuckyatta
Summary: Ana Amari does not know when she should reveal her identity to her daughter, and at this point is unsure if she should at all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING  
> I haven't written in ages, please feel free to give criticism on the writing itself and not the ship

Fareeha Amari was no fool. Formerly Helix's head of security, now leading captain of Overwatch, did this stalker believe she could not see them the moment they started to watch her? Even miles away, the glint of a their scope was undeniable, even through the gunfire and smoke of the battlefield. Surely they knew, surely they did not think Fareeha was blind. But whoever this stranger was, they never fired a single shot. They were not a threat, she decided, and left them alone.

It was only until a close call in Giza, a run in with a sector of rouge omnics, did Fareeha get a good look of them. She was being careless, far too confident that this would be an easy mission. A single shot cracked through the sky, piercing through her raptora's armor and through its boosters, plummeting her to the ground. Mercy had only left her for a brief moment, to tend to the rest of the team while she scouted ahead, and her return would not be quick enough as she crashed, momentarily stunned from the fall, vulnerable to the omnics now heading her way, guns in tow.

Shakily propping herself up with one hand, she stared down the omnics aiming their sights down at her, she would not go down without a fight. But before she could get up, before the omnics shot her down, they began to collapse, one by one. Fareeha whipped her head around, and it was not her team there to support her. Instead stood a cloaked figure, her stalker, in their hand a pistol pointed towards her attackers, the familiar glint of their scoped rifle relaxed in their other. They were a good shot, and the remaining omnics fled before they met the same fate. 

Fareeha opened her mouth, questions forming on her lips. _Who are you? Why are you following me?_ But instead all she could do was watch the masked figure now staring directly at her, silent. She reached out to them, and they glanced towards the movement and just stood there, as if in thought. Before a decision could be made, Fareehas team comms buzzed with activity, concerned teammates asking her location. The stranger left, then, ragged cloak following their lead, and Fareeha could only watch as she told her team where she was.  


\------------------------------------

  


"So, finally got a glimpse of 'em, yeah?" Fareeha's observer was no secret to the rest of Overwatch, she had shared this information to her peers and continued to do so after each encounter, this time was no different. Tracer practically lit up with curiosity and was quick to begin asking questions once they were in the dropship. "Were they handsome?"

"That is highly inappropriate Lena," Fareeha replied awkwardly, face scrunching up, flustered but also conflicted, "And I didn't see their face, they wore some kind of mask."

Lena's face seem to bright up even more at that. "Ooh! So they're the cool and mysterious type? Sexy!"

Before Fareeha could respond, another member in the dropship, Mercy, interrupted. "As much as I'm sure the rest of us would love to hear you two gossip, _some_ of us would like to get a couple hours of sleep in before returning to base for debriefing." Lena and Fareeha tried to voice their apologies, though Angela cut them off, "However," A smile clear on her face, she continued, "I would love to hear more about your _secret admirer_ when we get the time, they sound quite dashing."

If she could, Fareeha would have protested, but their laughing and her building embarrassment prevented her. The following nights to come her dreams were haunted by that mask, its gaze bore deep into her, swallowing her whole.  


\------------------------------------

The encounters only increased since then. Kings Row, Montreal, Los Vegas, Dorado, wherever Overwatch was led, they followed. And each time, each brief meeting, she didn't get any closer to finding out who this masked figure was. It began to consume her, each mission she made a mistake, ones she almost convinced herself were on purpose to get closer to this being, to no avail. She believed she began to see them even when they weren't there, began to wonder if they watched her even while she was alone in her private barracks, through the small window beside her bed. The following weeks to come she made it habit to cover the window with her spare sheets, she couldn't bear to think of... _it_ watching her.

When she wasn't on duty, she was holed up in her barracks, eyes burning as she scoured through countless articles. With the help of Athena she found one news clipping, a bare bones article based only on speculation and attached to it a shoddy, out of focus picture of what they called the Shrike. Even through its poor quality, she knew it was them, was the thing watching her. 

"Who is the Shrike?" She had later that night called in Soldier, previously Jack Morrison, though it was hard to get him to admit that when he had answered the recall, to the recreation room. He simply stared at her, he was wearing that damn visor that could only remind her of them, how it bore into her the same way. "I know that you have previous ties to Egypt, that you lived there for a time, and that they have been spotted there in the past, so you must know something, Soldier."

His posture shifts, but her stance remains strong, not giving him a way out, not until he gives her an answer. Eventually, he speaks, "The ruins," He pauses, considering his words, "We set up camp at the ruins, near Anubis. At the time we had similar plans in mind, we helped one another. It didn't last very long."

"Why didn't you tell me before, when I told you all about them?" At first Jack doesn't answer, but when Fareeha turns to leave, he responds.

"Because she will tell you, Shrike will tell you who she is. In time, when she is ready. That is all I can say." He sounds almost ashamed to have told her only vague pieces of information. She leaves the recreation room without uttering a word, left with more questions and more restless nights.  


\------------------------------------

  


Ana Amari was no fool, but she was a coward. Former captain of Overwatch, she disappeared to protect the ones she loved, but now she feared to reveal herself. Ana kept close eyes on her daughter, from the moment she was gone til now. It was only now, these past few months, did she make the step to try to get closer.

Watching her was not hard, she was making an impact in the world, she could tune into any news station at any given time, and chances are she would catch a glimpse of her daughter, of all the good she was doing. But just observing from afar could no longer cut it, she wanted to see her Fareeha in person, as close as she could get without notice. It was ridiculous to think she could get away with it, she was only thankful that what she wore prevented Fareeha from truly learning who it was that followed her, and it only got harder to let go of the disguise as time went on. 

The incident in Giza has been a mistake. She had not meant to get so close. When she reached out, her daughter reached out to her, she so desperately wanted to close that gap, but she couldn't, and she ran. After that she could not keep away, every opportunity she got she took to see Fareeha, to make sure she was okay. The more these meetings occurred, the longer this all carried out, the harder it became for her to want to reveal herself. How would Fareeha react if all this time, it had been her mother watching her. Would she be angry? Upset? Ana could only fear the worst, and hid behind her mask. The time never felt right.  


\------------------------------------

  


4 months into this obsession, Mercy deemed Fareeha unfit for the battlefield, and denied her access to mission briefings. "Angela, I don't understand," She protested, controlling herself from pushing herself off the examining chair and gripping the doctors coat, instead opting for clenching her fists to the edge of said chair. "This isn't a problem-"

"Yes, it is, Fareeha!" Angela exclaimed, "Ever since we returned from the mission in Giza you've been careless, you were careless then. You've been on my operating table far too many times these past few months," She lowers her voice, then, "I'm concerned for you, Fareeha, so is everyone else. I think it would be best if you lay low for a while, focus on other things. Maybe if you stay here long enough whoever it is thats watching you will move on." 

Fareeha's anger deflated under Angela's words. "But I am the captain, head of operations, who will carry that role while I'm stuck here?" Perhaps if she keeps arguing with her she will reconsider, it's all she can hope, though the doctors thoughtful smile makes her believe otherwise.

"Jack was one of our captains before you, perhaps he will do it." She taps a pen against the clipboard she is holding. "If not him, we have many operatives who are fit for the job who will take the offer, I'm sure you are well aware of this."

She is, and the rest of her complaints die out when the thought occurs to her that the doctor has prepared an answer for any questions she might have, she would have answered them when deeming past captains unfit before her. "Then what am I supposed to do with my time off?"

"There's plenty to do around the base." Angela answers easily, "The recreation room has many options, so does our extensive gym, we recently upgraded it with more equipment to suit everyones needs. Zenyatta was recently moved to this base, I've heard he has great methods for helping others with personal problems, perhaps you should seek him out." She places a gentle hand to Fareeha's knee and gives her a light smile. "We care about you, Fareeha, please try to take it easy. I'm doing this not only because I'm you're doctor, I am also you're friend." 

Fareeha takes a long glance towards the window looking out onto the bases cliffside, then turns back to Angela, answering with a curt nod. "Thank you, Angela, I will."  


\------------------------------------

Hours after, Fareeha was already restless. Moments before her team was sent to Ilios, Athena detected talon activity there, and she was forced to sit out, not even allowed to wave off their dropship as they departed. All she could do was sit in her barracks, leg bouncing anxiously as she watched it disappear from sight. 

The recreation room was a fruitless effort. Fit with a tv, one of their most recent teammates, Hana Song, provided countless amounts of video games and movies for the rest of the crew to use at their leisure. However Fareeha was never one for video games, got frustrated playing against her colleagues and found it pointless playing alone, and their weekly movie nights assured that they had practically watched every movie in their collection, and she was not in the mood to rewatch a movie, even if she could find someone to watch it with. 

Unfortunately, the gym wasn't much help either. Normally she had a partner to compete with, Lena and Zaryanova were great for that, but both were gone on mission. Even if she tried to find someone else, it was the afternoon, and most, if not all of her teammates, worked out early in the morning. Eventually she decided to excersize alone, if only to pass time. Perhaps a quick run on the treadmill would do her good, get her mind off things. 

This proved to not be the case after, however, when in the communal showers after said run. The showers were separated by stall walls, though surrounding the walls were small windows, high up enough that no one could see through them, but just to bring light into the room. Despite this, Fareeha could not shake off the feeling that they were there, watching her through those windows. She hoped that the Shrike had more tact than to watch her at a time like this, naked and vulnerable. Though she tried to ignore it, the thought alone caused heat to wash over her, embarrassment but also, something else. She shook her head, lowering the showers temperature and laughing, Lena's teasing was getting to her head.

It had barely been half a day since getting forced time off, but she already went around base looking for Zenyatta, Angela's last suggestion she had given her. Despite her best efforts she couldn't stop thinking about them, now multiplied since her shower. She had never thought of her watcher this way before, what their gloved hands would feel on her skin, or mask gazing at her in a way other than curiosity. 

She found the omnic tending to the bases newly acquired garden, started by Zenyatta himself. He believed that the project would be therapeutic for some members on base, as well as provide fresh vegetables for their kitchen. Upon hearing her enter, he simply turns his head to her, as if seemingly knowing already why she was here. "Ah, Fareeha, if you could, would you help me prepare our pumpkin patch?" He tilts his head in question, and his tone of voice would make it seem as though hes smiling under those metal plates. "Mccree wished for us to have one before Halloween, but told me he was worried he would ruin it doing it himself. I will certainly have to show him myself once he's confident." 

She gladly helped the monk, and as they made preparations she approached him about her troubles, making sure to leave out recent occurrences. 

"Obsession feeds what haunts you, Fareeha." He answers simply, "You cannot ignore that what is watching, but you can show it that you are not afraid." He fills the small holes they've created with sprouts, and Fareeha helps with filling the holes back up. "We should start with the window in your room. Athena has a keen eye, and if there truly was something watching you, she would alert you. But lets say perhaps they go unseen, do not cover your windows. You say they have not harmed you, have even helped you?" Fareeha nods at that. "Then there is nothing to fear, hiding away will only give your watcher more of a reason to pry. In time, when you open yourself to them, they will open themselves to you."

She is frustrated at his final statement, reminds her too much of Jacks. It feels as though everyone has answers but herself, but she thanks him anyways. Zenyatta continues to give advice, shares with her how to practice meditation, the both agree to do it together tomorrow morning, and the following mornings to come. She stands to leave, but Zenyatta places a hand to her side, stopping her. 

"Oh, and Fareeha," He starts, "There is nothing wrong with indulging in carnal pleasures, it is only human, and may help you with some problems you didn't wish to share with me."

Face blooming with warmth, she sputters out a quick _yeah, okay_ and exits the garden. Had she been that obvious? What gave him a right to say that, to be so nosy? She would reprimand him at a later time, when her mind wasn't flooded with images started from the omnic's comment.  


\------------------------------------

  


Later that night she gets a call from her comrades. She was no longer in control of operations, but it seemed only fair to keep her updated on the mission. Angela is the one speaking to her, tells her they will be spending the next day there, just to be safe. Fareeha tells her of her talk with Zenyatta, and their future plans together.

"That's great, Fareeha!" Angela sounds proud of her, so motherly. "It's great that you're taking up my suggestion. Zenyatta's help will be good for you, keep up at it and follow his advice and you'll be back with us sooner than I thought!" 

The call is brief and ends soon after. Alone in her barracks she stares down the sheets covering her window. She takes a wavering breath, steadies herself, and rips the sheets down from the wall, room lighting up from the previously covered moonlight. 

She stares out the window, looking for the unmistakeable glint, but she does not see it. Perhaps Zenyatta is right. Or perhaps the Shrike has taken more measures to not be seen. If he is wrong about Athena, about them being spotted, how long could the Shrike have been watching her here? Since she first saw them, all those months back? Did they see all the times she was rushed to Angela's operating table, all her restless nights?

Today, when she was in the shower, and all the days before it? Her talk with Zenyatta, did they hear him speak of dealing with her stress in _other ways_? The thought brings back that familiar heat, surging through her chest down to her core. 

Hesitantly, she brings a hand up, brushing her night shirt up, just below her breasts, eyes watching the window, for movement. Maybe she will take up Zenyatta's advice, if the Shrike is watching her, maybe they'll enjoy the show. Her thighs clench at the notion, and with some bravery she removes her shirt, nipples hardening in the coldness of the room. Bracing her free hand against the wall, she glares out the window victoriously, looking for any sign of them as her hand rises to her breast, cupping it before pinching her nipple between her fingers, a low groan escaping her, it really had been a long time since she's touched herself, too worked up with responsibilities.

Pushing her chest outwards towards her palm, she imagines that the hand touching her is not her own, but the Shrike's, begins to wonder how their hands would feel on her, if their hands were rough under their gloves. Would the Shrike be slow and gentle with her, or rough and demanding? Would they skip the foreplay and take what they wanted from her? She lets out a small huff, her breath momentarily fogging up the window before pushing herself backwards, until the back of her legs bump the side of her bed, clumsily falling back onto it. 

Taking no time, she uses her now free hand to play with the waistband of her sweatpants, fingers teasing course hair underneath it. Did the Shrike wish to see her this way? She was still unsure of what she wanted that answer to be, but in this moment she could only think of their eyes on her, observing her so intently like they always did, and some part of her mind hoped that they did. 

She takes a shallow breath, shuffling a bit awkwardly to prop herself up againt the back wall, before fingers delve lower, beneath her sweatpants, her middle and index fingers swiping up her lower lips to her clit. Her hips stutter, her panties adding a delicious friction but denying her full contact. Pressing down on her clit, she coaxes it out of its hood, rolls her hips into the feeling. It takes only a few moments before shes soaking through the material, digits occasionally moving down, probing her entrance through her underwear but never moving it aside and entering herself. In her fantasy she imagined it was the Shrike torturing her this way, denying her what she desperately wanted.

"Shrike," She tests the name once, "Shrike," twice, each coming out strained, but adding to the boiling pit below her stomach. Saying the name aloud and being so wound up since this afternoon, she is already embarrassingly close to release, and the name becomes a mantra as she gets closer to release.

The hand playing with her breasts quickly goes from that to fisting her sheets, her chest heaving as her hips cant towards her hands. She finally relents, pushing aside the offending material and sliding two fingers into herself with ease. A moan threatens to escape her, and it promptly does when she begins to pump her fingers, curled upon entering her and rubbing againt her sensitive front wall. It is only until she fully presses her hand to her mound, palm mashing her clit does she give in, eyes shut tight as she comes, continuing her ministrations as she rides out her orgasm.

The grip on the sheets lessens as she calms, a quiet whimper leaving her as her fingers do the same, raising them up so the wetness there is illuminated but the moon coming through the window. Feeling cocky, she brings the fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean. Its an awkward action, one she hasn't done before, but she hoped that the Shrike was there, and watched as it happened, hoped they witnessed all of it.  


\------------------------------------

  


The next few days, weeks, all play out the same way. She does her work out, takes her shower, meditates with Zenyatta, and at night fucks herself on her fingers to the thought of the Shrike, to the thought of them watching her do it. Zenyatta notices that her mood has been considerably better since their first meeting, keeps record of their talks after and their meditation sessions. He speaks with Angela and the both decide that Fareeha should be fit for battle in the following days.

Ana would think differently. Ana would say that her obsession has only gotten worse, heightened to something that she herself does not believe she can fix. Never would she imagine that things would escalate to this. Never did she think she would watch how it had escalated. 

She did not mean to watch, never meant to step onto the base to begin with, did not want to step over the boundary of watching Fareeha where she thought she was safe from prying eyes. It just... happened. The first night she watched her daughter tear off sheets blocking her window, no doubt having already been cautious of Ana watching her. Guilt washed over her then, and she promptly left, hoping Fareeha would not notice the sudden movement outside. She did not intend to come back, but days later she was there again, and the sheets previously covering her window was not there to be torn down. 

What was there, however, was Fareeha, her daughter, rocking against her fingers. Immediately she tried to look away, should have figured that watching her daughter would lead to a moment like this, ashamed of it, but she was transfixed. Fareeha's eyes were looking directly out the window, searching for her presumably. She could not look away, her daughters eyes keeping her locked there to watch her shamelessly thrust into herself, noting that two fingers turned to three. 

The gravity of the situation only dawned on her when she saw her daughter mouth the word _Shrike_ , over and over again. A raw taste filled her mouth, shifted uneasily, foolishly not realizing her position and the glint of her rifle reflecting off the moons light. She watched as her daughter's eyes widened at that, having caught her, caught her watching her. For a moment they both go still, neither of them able to look away from each other, until Fareeha moves again, eyes shutting and mouth opening in what Ana assumes is a moan, watches the way her back arches and how she moves against her hand so desperately. 

It is only then does Ana leave. She feels sick, digusted with herself for having seen her daughter in such a way, and for watching her continue instead of walking away, for having this go on for so long that it came to this. Despite the feeling in her gut, telling herself that she will not return, she does so the following night, and the night after that and so on, and watches her, gives her the slight hint that shes there, and lets this problem stray further from its solution.  


\------------------------------------

Weeks later, after Fareeha is given permission to return to the battlefield, she no longer sees the Shrike on missions. At night, out the window of her barracks, yes, she sees them there, but out on missions they are no where to be seen, and she does look, whenever she gets the chance. She finds it hard to believe that they followed her for months not to protect her, but to drive her to obsession, but now she is unsure. 

But then she finds herself once again on a mission in Egypt, near the temple, near the ruins. She knows she shouldn't venture there, but after their mission, a successful payload protected from some ragtag group of mercenaries impersonating Talon, she tells her team they should stay the night. After they had set up camp and the rest of the group had gone to sleep, she snuck out, dressed in overwatch regulated casual wear; sweater, tanktop, sweatpants. Wordlessly she notes Jack sitting outside his tent, his visor glowing dimly as he watched her, but says nothing as she leaves.  


\------------------------------------

It is deathly silent when she reaches the ruins. First she checks both side buildings, there is nothing that catches her attention except for the seemingly untouched sleeping bag and nightstand, now covered by dust and sand, for a brief moment she wonders if this is where Jack stayed, before heading to the main structure. There a light shining from the buildings entrances, and she is cautious when she enters.

The reaction is immediate, there they are, turned away from them, cloakless and without tactical gear but wearing what Fareeha thinks is a hijab. They are illuminated by the monitors they are watching, more so when Fareeha makes a step closer, and the Shrike turns slightly, and she notes that they are not wearing their mask. She catches a hint of dark skin, an eyepatch covered by silver hair, before the Shrike realizes the situation, bolting up from where they were seated and making their way up the buildings stairs. 

Fareeha tails after them, sprinting up the stairs and catching them at the top, flipping them around and pressing them to the wall ahead of them. During that small moment the Shrike has already attached their mask, she isn't sure when they had grabbed it. She reaches for it, hoping to take it off, but the Shrike is quick to react, grabbing her wrist before her hand touches the masks smooth surface.

Ana holds her wrist there, she is sure her daughter could easily shake off her hold, but she does not, instead leaning in closer. Ana shivers against the walls cold surface, and Fareeha watches the movement, face curious, as well as demanding, illuminated by her masks lights. 

"Who are you." She finally says, her tone firm, not a question but a demand for an answer. Her hand previously reaching for her mask is now in a tight fist, gives a strong shake to try and throw off her stalkers grip. It doesn't give, and she does not try further. Ana studies her carefully, not giving her an answer, and when it is silent for a few moments Fareeha swallows, mouth dry, voice a bit awkward as she tries again. "Where have you been?" She asks this time, free hand going to the wall beside Ana's head, widening her stance and essentially trapping her there. 

It has been a long time, but certainly not long enough for her daughter to forget her voice. She dares not speak, now is not the time, she was not expecting this, expecting her to be here. Again there is silence, and she watches her daughter try to fight of frustration. Fareeha shifts, unsure, before stepping closer, body pressed up against the Shrike's. She licks her lips, letting out a small huff before once again speaking. 

"Do you enjoy the shows I give you?" Fareeha's body is surprisingly warm, so much so Ana can feel it against her layers, sees her breath lightly fog her visor as she talks. She lets a moment pass, trying to assess the situation, trying to get an answer from the Shrike, before continuing. "I wanted to thank you," She says, hand flat on the wall now moving to lighting brush up against the Shrike's mask. She does not make an attempt to remove it, and slowly, cautiously, Ana removes her grip from her daughters wrist, the now free hand instead now grabbing Ana's wrist. "For all the times you've saved me, i'm greatful. I want to show you how appreciative I am." Fareeha moves the hand in her grip underneath her shirt.

Ana hesitates, her hand against her daughters skin, fingers teasing the underside of her breasts, guilt filling her as she notes how Fareeha is not wearing a bra, how that fact causes a surge of arousal through her. It is now time for her to be awkward, this was not what she wanted, not originally when this fiasco started months ago, but after watching her daughter through her window for weeks, she could not deny her attractiveness. She was well built, broad shouldered with sharp features and a strong jaw, she can see her biceps flex and tense, and even through her gloves could feel her strong abs as her fingers has passed by them. She had not truly been Ana Amari for many years, hiding away as the Shrike for all that time, she briefly thinks that such isolation of her identity is what made all of this so easy to ignore, ignore why it was wrong. 

Fareeha wanted the Shrike, and the Shrike? Perhaps the Shrike wanted her back.

For a moment Fareeha believes she has made a mistake, can sense the hesitation as the Shrike stays still. Before she can back out, though, the hand underneat her shirt now roughly palms at her breast. She rolls into the motion, hand releasing their wrist and now both hands going around the others neck, pressing herself closer. When the hand at her breast goes to pinch her nipple, then roll it against their thumb, she whines, buries her head into the crook of their neck and lets out a pitiful puff of breath. 

With a bout of confidence, Ana uses her unoccupied hand to lift up Fareeha's tank top, not wishing to push her away to fully remove it, just high up enough to rest now above her breasts. If she could without revealing herself, she would have told her that it was cute how she wasn't wearing a bra, had this been her plan all along? She now has her attention of both her breasts, they perfectly fit in her hands. She holds them in her palms, pushes them together and lets them go to watch them bounce back in place. Fareeha squirms against her, and she fights off a laugh at the thought that the action embarrassed her. For being so confident in being watched, actually being touched seemed to be a different story. 

She drifted her hands down lower, feather light touches down her midsection, feels the way the muscles tense at the action, till she reaches the waistband of her daughters sweats, fingers hooking under but not any further, questioning. It isn't until she hears a pleading please that she goes further. But again she hesitates, and her hands quicky leave where they were. Fareeha is about to protest, but is stopped by a hand running soothingly through her hair, and realizes that the Shrike has taken off their gloves. 

They stay there for a silent moment, pressed against one another and the Shrike affectionately playing with her hair, and for just a short while this seems almost romantic, like this isnt a strange arrangement. It is gone in an instant, hands abandoning her hair and traversing down her body, taking a quick detour to squeeze at her breasts, back down till they are once again beneath her sweats and past her panties, one hand toyingly petting her mound, fingers achingly close to her clit, the other going back up to stroke her belly, feeling it tense. Fareeha pushes away just an inch, so her hands are now clutching the Shrike's shoulders, breath coming out in short bursts and hips buck once against the hand on her, desperate.

It's in that instant that the hand petting her goes lower, and Ana can feel how wet she is on her fingers. She presses two fingers to her clit and feels Fareeha jolt at the sudden sensation and how her knees attempt to buckle, hears her moan weakly, low within her throat. It's then she knows that she wants more than to feel her, she wants to taste her as well, the shudder she feels as she continues to play with her clit almost making her forget who it is she wants to fuck.

Almost.

Perhaps the fact that it is her daughter is what spurs her on more, what makes her burn. 

Her hand leaves the others center and both hands grip her waistband, dropping to her knees and pulling Fareeha's sweatpants down to her ankles along with her panties. Her knees give a dull ache at the action, and will certainly hurt later, curse her old age. Not giving it much thought, she places both hands to Fareeha's thighs, looks up at her and urges her to spread them. She does without hesitation, though theres a curious look on her past her blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. Ana answers by looking back down, and pauses before lifting her mask up, just enough to reveal her mouth, to keep the rest of herself hidden.

Hands pull at Fareeha's thighs and she shuffles forward. A moan escapes her as Ana's warm tongue broadly licks up her slit to circle at her clit. Her legs almost give out at that, but forces herself to stay up, her hands reaching down to clutch at the fabric of the others hijab. She tries to rock foward, but is kept still by firm hands. Those same hands move up to stroke the jut of her hipbones, and she whines as that tongue keeps up its broad licks, opening her up, her slick no doubt running down their chin. 

It feels like torture, hot tongue pressing into her, but never delves any lower or sucks, just licks, exploratory. It's only until she digs deeper into the fabric, tugs at it, a strained moan leaving her and she begs, _pleads_ , "Please, Please, Please," does Ana finally relent. The hands at her hips move to her ass, pushes against her cheeks to force her closer. Fareeha practically sobs when lips go to her clit and sucks, the hands now playing with her ass urging her to move freely. She does, widening her legs just a bit further to steady herself, and bucking against the mouth on her. Occasionally Ana will stop sucking at her clit to delve her tongue deep into her, prod at her entrance, and Fareeha lets out a feeble squeak as she pushes the muscle past it, just for a moment, before going back to her clit. 

She sucks, peppers it with kisses, rolls her tongue against it, and the sensation is all too much. She finds herself cumming much sooner than she wanted to, Ana's mouth going back to broad licks as she rides out her orgasm. As the waves subside, the mouth on her sucks on either of her lower lips, cleaning her of any remaining slick. One hand is now back to her thigh, petting along the defined muscle and wet mouth placing messy kisses against her inner thighs. 

Just as she is about to speak, she feels a sharp jab to her thigh, looks down to see the hand that was not petting at her thighs has stuck a dart into her, and her vision blurs. Before she can get a word out she is out cold.  


\------------------------------------

When she wakes that morning she is still in the ruins. She was in a sleeping bag, presumably the one she saw the night before. Quickly, she goes back to the main structure to find it barren, not a single thing that was there last night had been there, how had the Shrike moved everything so fast?

She does notice, however, her cellphone sitting at one of the slabs where the monitors used to be. She had brought it with her, just in case something had happened. Unlocking the phone she sees 10 missed calls, and two text messages from Lena.

_Where are ya mate? Mercys gonna kill ya when ya get back._

__

__

_Did you want to stay the night just to get laid????????_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a second chapter :3c This is the end of this story, but I will be writing more amaricest in the future. The overwhelmingly positive feedback on this fanfiction means a lot to me, this is the first fanfiction I've written in a long time, and the response I received from the fanfiction is what inspires me to write more, and to write more conventionally immoral content. Please never feel ashamed of what you're into, especially around me, I will always support you guys.
> 
> and to those reading Blood Money, I'm a bit stuck on it at the moment, so don't expect that for a while, my apologies.
> 
> My tumblr is https://dunkyatta.tumblr.com/ feel free to send requests or just talk to me!

She opened the window.

A month had passed, and within that time the Shrike was absent from her life. Ever since that incident in Egypt, not once did that familiar glint shine in her peripheral, nor did that glowing gaze pierce through her and shake her core. 

Even so, she put on a show every night, hoped that somewhere beyond the window the Shrike was there, watching her. Fingers delving deep inside herself, hazy eyes locked to the surroundings outside her barracks, searching for the sliver of a chance that they are there. 

Opening barrack windows were against protocol, but unexpectedly the bases ventilation shut itself off. Winston apologized profusely through the intercoms, saying he was testing emergency lock down procedures and the vents would not open back up. To prevent the base from overheating, operatives were adviced to open their windows. 

Fareeha could not deny the spike of arousal surging through her at the prospect of that, and furthermore the thought that this would give the Shrike a way in. Already heat encases her once the night air pours in through the open window. She takes a long moment to just to stare, look for any signs of life outside, before she's backing up to her bed, back thumping to the wall as she leans back. Still dressed in her on sight attire, she fumbles with her belt, kicking off her boots along with it. 

During this she does not see the shadowed form climb through her window, stalking towards her. It is only until a gloved hand touches her does she freeze. She dares to look up, and there looking back down at her is the Shrike, they're glowing lights illuminating her face in blue. A time passes before Fareeha removes her hands from her belt, takes this time to simply watch the shrouded figure. 

The shrike takes a gentle hold on her belt, takes great care in unbuckling it and pulling it through the belt loops of her pants. Neither speak as the belt is discarded, and now the Shrike is moving Fareeha to lie flat on the bed, straddling her lap. Gloved hands rise up Fareeha's middle, stroking her abs and riding her shirt up as they stop at the underside of her clothed breasts. A pause, and Fareeha lifts her arms, the Shrike removes her shirt, tossing it to the floor along with her belt. Now their hands are on her again, on her breasts, and they pinch at her nipples through her bra, and Fareeha groans, archs into the touch. 

Gloved hands reach behind her to undo the bra's clasp, and the Shrike grinds her hips into Fareeha's, and Fareeha mimics the motion. The two find a rhythm, the bra finds its way into the growing pile of clothes and those hands are back on her chest, touch almost affectionate, worshiping as they grope and palm at her, pushing her breasts together and rolling her nipples between their fingers.

Fareeha has a hard time staying quiet through all this, whining and mewling, hands fisting the sheets as she bucks against the Shrike. A hand goes up her collar bone, stroking up to her jaw, and now fingers press to her lips. Obediently, Fareeha opens her mouth, accepting the digits now prodding at her tongue. The texture of their gloves feels strange against her mouth, still though she closes her lips around them and sucks, stifling the moan that escapes her. 

Fingers push and prod at her tongue, saliva builds in her mouth and drips down her chin. They push farther back, tears build up as she gags on them, and then they are pulled away and Fareeha is left catching her breath as wet fingers trial down her chest, lower still to her abdomen and past the waist band of her pants and underwear. She takes a strangled breath as fingers delve straight down to her entrance, two digits pushing against it, but not entering. 

Hips stuttering, Fareeha lets out a desperate, hushed please. Still the fingers simply pet at her entrance, wait till Fareeha's breathing has grown ragged, then push in, both fingers all the way in to the last knuckle. A startled moan escaped her, back bowing forward and hands reaching to grasp at the Shrike's cloak. Her legs attempt to clench together, but the Shrike's free hand goes to her knee, urges her to spread them, situating themselves so they now sat between her legs. 

The Shrike waits till Fareeha is bucking against her, glowing gaze watching her intently as they move, fingers pumping inside her. Already Fareeha's thrusts are erratic, and the Shrike moves her free hand to her thigh, attempts to still her movement. Fareeha is shaking against them, face pressed to the crook of their neck to dull the sound of her moans. 

Fingers spread her open, scissoring and curling forward as they pump into her. The Shrike moves their hips along with their fingers, thrusts forward when their fingers do so, and the bed shifts with the action. The hand on Fareeha's thigh moves to the mask that they wear, they lift it open, just enough so only their mouth is visible. Cradling Fareeha's cheek they move her from where she was at their neck. Then, a palm presses to her neglected clit, pushes against it with every thrust of their fingers, and the hand at her cheek is ushering her forward, lips encasing hers and swallowing her whines and whimpers. The shrike presses themself fully against Fareeha to calm her thrashing, pushing their tongue into Fareeha's mouth and petting at her tongue. They continue to pump into her as Fareeha rides out her orgasm, urging her to lie down. 

Once the waves still, the Shrike stops their kiss, Fareeha bites at their lower lip as they part, and now places soothing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. After Fareeha's breathing calms, the Shrike moves to leave the bed, but is stopped by Fareeha tugging at their cloak.

"Don't go." Her voice is small, vulnerable. The Shrike goes back to her, holds her face in both hands, and for a moment they simply stare at one another, thumb gently brushing along Fareeha's cheek. All she gets is a small shake of the Shrike's head, and they lean back down for one final, longing kiss, before moving their mask to fully cover their face once more. They do not wait for an answer as they move off the bed, climbing out the window and leaving Fareeha by herself. 

One week later, Ana Amari rises from the dead. 

Most are ecstatic about her return. Tracer and Mercy welcome her as if she just came back from vacation, Reinhardt cries and nearly crushes the woman lifting her up in a hug. Fareeha is absent from the reunion. She already grieved the death of her mother, learned to no longer think of her or miss her, how could she just return? And how could everyone else just act like nothing has changed? It was like they knew something she didn't, like everyone knew that Ana wasn't dead, everyone but her. 

So instead she stays locked up in her private quarters. It was childish, really. She ignores Mercy's urgent messages about her weekly check-up, and when Tracer or Zarya knock on her door asking if she wants to spar with them, she tells them she's busy. But when her mother knocks, she dares not even make a sound, doesn't even want to acknowledge shes really there. It's hard, though, especially hearing her through the door, telling her that, when she's ready, she would like to spend some time with her. That's almost laughable, considering how little time they spent before she died. 

It is only when Mercy threatens her with forced time off again does she exit her room. She's dragged to the mess hall to eat, but she has a death grip on the doorway leading there when she spots her mother there, alone. 

Time seems to slow, and surely she looks like a deer caught in headlights. Mercy is whispering little encouragements to her in hopes of getting her to speak to Ana. But not a word goes through her, her mind seems to blank at the sight of her mother. It has been a long while, wrinkles a sign of aging, an eyepatch she did not have before, and her hair a striking silver instead of black. 

A multitude of emotions hit her all at once, the whiplash causing her to act out. She walks away from Mercy, towards her mother who is watching her so intently. In that moment she now stands before her mother, face unreadable and the silence weighing down on both of them.

Ana is the first to break the silence. "It's been a while, Fareeha, would you like to join me?" There's a hint of amusement in her voice, and she motions to the seat next to her.

Instead, Fareeha hugs her into a tight embrace. She doesn't speak, but her body quakes and tears form in her eyes.

Her mother returns the gesture, shushing her and rubbing soothing circles against her back. "It's okay, habibat alqalb, I am here now."

\------------------------------------

Ana could not let this go on any longer. The first time shouldn't have happened, none of this should have. And while she could tell herself that all those times before weren't her intention, last week, she went back to the base on her own volition, and fucked her daughter. Because the truth was that she desired her, thought of her every waking moment, of the way her body trembled when she touched her or her weak cries when she came. 

It was wrong, yet still she acted on those desires, climbed into her private quarters and fucked her. She thought that maybe if she came back, as Ana, things could return to normal, that Fareeha would eventually forget the Shrike. And it worked, for a while.

The members of Overwatch, old and new, welcomed her with open arms, some acted as if she never left. Her reunion with Fareeha was rocky, but the encounter in the mess hall seemed to wash away the tension. Fareeha wore the position of captain proudly, in some ways Ana believed she was better than herself. Her plans were clear and concise, her synergy with the rest of her crew was abundantly evident, and on the battlefield she could protect her teammates. 

When she started including Ana on missions with her, perhaps that is when Ana realized things could not go back to normal.

It was the little things, from being originally deployed to her squadron, to the moments when Fareeha would come to her assistance, kneel down in front of her, dark eyes locked with hers. How those dark eyes would cause heat to embrace her in waves. 

Things weren't much better on base either. It was clear that Fareeha hadn't taken the death of her mother well, and now that she was back she wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. They ate meals together, Fareeha invited her to spar with her almost daily, some days they would walk around base together, Fareeha catching her up with what she's missed these past few years, and some nights her and Fareeha would simply sit in her daughter's barracks in silence, enjoying each others company. 

To some this would appear has a close mother and daughter bond, but others knew that when Fareeha was younger she almost despised being around her mother, wished to be around uncle Gabe or Mccree most days because her mother was so adamant in convincing her daughter she did not want to join Overwatch. The two were never that close, that is why Fareeha's obsession with her was off putting. To those who knew Fareeha, this abnormal amount of affection seemed like a lost puppy desperate for attention.

That though, Ana could handle. What she could not handle, was the touching. No matter what Fareeha seemed to gravitate to her, bumping shoulders as they walked, or placing a hand to her shoulder when they spoke. Ana could not return the tentative touches, could not think of them the same way Fareeha did. 

Her breaking point was a mission in Hanamura. Talon activity had been detected, Winston and Athena managed to hack into radio signals and inferred that Doomfist was there to discuss business with the Shimada clan, in hopes to find Hanzo Shimada and recruit him. Fareeha deployed her crew, and they set up watch near the Shimada temple. The guards found them and ambushed them later that night. 

Caught off guard, her teammates were unable to properly defend themselves, scrambling to protect one another from the sudden onslaught. During all this, Ana had found herself hiding in an alley way in attempt to go unnoticed by the guards rushing their camp. Foolishly, she had left her communicator on, and when a group of them walked past it buzzed with activity, worried teammates asking her location. In an instant they're on her, surrounding her with guns pointed and ready. 

She's on her feet that moment, gunshots whizzing past her as she takes cover behind a dumpster. A bullet had grazed her side, and she clucthes the wound as bullets batter the metal container. Faintly she hears a click, then something land to her feet, a grenade. She curls into herself, eyes shut tight.

But then she's being tackled to the ground, hard body pressed to hers, strong arms wrapping around her. She hears the explosion go off, feels the body around hers tense. Once the debris settles, the arms on her lessen their grip. Her vision is drowned by blue, Fareeha's raptora. She glances behind Fareeha, the guards incapacitated, Tracer, and Mccree peeking around the corner to check on them, accompanied by Mercy. 

"Mom," Her attention is back on Fareeha. Those dark eyes are on her, hands clutching at her cloak, face covered in ash and sweat. "Are you alright?"

Ana swallows, eye drawn to Fareeha's lips. In that moment she wants to kiss her, pull on her hair, claim her. The thought causes a shiver to run through her. Fareeha is looking at her with growing concern. "I am fine, Fareeha. Thank you." 

Fareeha beams at her, turns to her crew and instructs them that they'll be retreating back to base. 

\------------------------------------

Back at base, Fareeha was more protective of her mother. How could she not be? The mission to Hanamura was a mistake, they were careless and could have gotten her mother hurt, or killed. She had just gotten her mother back, she didn't want to lose her. 

She didn't have much of a parental figure when she was growing up. She saw her father on Christmas in Canada some years, but she hardly knew him, and her mother was so busy on missions, along with uncle Gabe and Mccree, most days she spent her time wandering around the base in Switzerland. Perhaps that is why grieving her mother had been so difficult, she hardly knew the woman and they didn't get along when she made time for one another. When she died she felt like she was free to do what she wanted, joined Helix and quickly rose up in the ranks, then becoming captain of Overwatch, but without her mother's constant disapproval, she felt lost. 

And perhaps that is why when she returned, she felt the sudden need for a motherly figure in her life, someone to tell her what to do. Ana never did provide that for her, even now, despite her attempts for it to happen. She never asked Fareeha to fetch anything for her, or to attend to her duties as captain. It was silly, really. She was an adult, did not need someone to tell her what to do, but she felt lost without the direction, everything she did felt dull when she was not being told to do it. Never before did she feel this way, and maybe that is why, when one day Ana told her to visit her in her quarters, that they had something important to talk about, did Fareeha feel a sense of purpose, body practically vibrating with the sense of accomplishment when she knocked on Ana's door. 

It all dissipates when she opens the door.

There, in the middle of the room, Ana was sitting at the table there. And there, on the table, was a mask, the Shrike's, its glowing gaze staring right at her. Bile burned in the back of her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but the acidic taste caused her vision to blur and the room to spin.

She never thought, never would have thought, that this was the case, but in that moment it all seemed to click. The silver hair, the eye patch, the hesitation back in Giza...She turns around, fumbles with the door handle.

"Fareeha-" 

"Don't." Hearing her mother's voice only amplifies that sick feeling in her gut, feels it lurch when she speaks. She doesn't give Ana a chance to respond as she leaves the room, rushing back to her own quarters.

\------------------------------------

Ana didn't expect anything good to come of inviting Fareeha to her barracks, but she had no other choice. Since Hanamura she couldn't stop thinking about Fareeha, about her daughter and her dark eyes looking up at her in desperation, hands clutching at her. This couldn't continue.

She did expect to talk, at least somewhat about it, though. She's not sure why she didn't think Fareeha would just walk out on her. Later that evening she walks to her quarters and knocks on her door. She does not receive an answer, and doesn't pry further. 

Eventually Mercy drops by as well, talks to Fareeha through the door. Her words are soft spoken and kind, already having to deal with Fareeha isolating herself just weeks earlier. She sounds so much more motherly than Ana, wonders if Mercy asserted herself as Fareeha's mother figure after she left. She comes back that evening with food, and to Ana's surprise Fareeha opens the door open for Mercy, just a crack so she can slide the tray inside.

Mercy sits by the door waiting for Fareeha to finish. She notices Ana down the hall, she's looking at her accusingly. Standing up, she makes her way to Ana. Ana turns to leave but is stopped by Mercy taking a hold on her wrist. 

"What did you say to her?" Blue eyes narrow at her.

Ana takes a moment to think of what to say, the truth would only make things worse. "I said nothing to her, Angela."

"Oh please," Angela sounds frustrated, already not wanting to deal with Ana. "She just told me she's taking time off, which she never does, and it just so happens to be right after she leaves your room."

Still Ana does not relent. "I said nothing."

Angela gives her wrist a firm shake, clear on her face she is trying to hide her anger. "I know who you are, Ana. You're selfish, you take from others and don't care of the consequences. You haven't changed."

"And I see your obsession with Amari's hasn't changed either, Doctor Ziegler." Ana wanted this conversation to be over, Angela had no right to accuse her of anything. 

Angela bites her tongue, releases her grip on Ana's wrist. Without a word she walks away from the older Amari, back to sitting by Fareeha's door. 

\------------------------------------

Many people come knocking on her door the next following days. Mercy would come by every few hours with food, Tracer would sit by the door and tell her what was happening around base that day, and some time in the afternoon Ana would knock. She wouldn't say a single word, but she knew it was her, in return she wouldn't speak either, and eventually Ana would leave. 

One day, however, Zenyatta comes by. The rapping at her door scares her, having not heard footsteps by her door. 

"Fareeha, I was told by Angela that you were feeling troubled. I have helped in the past, perhaps I could help now?" 

_You weren't that much help_ she thinks, but opens the door to let Zenyatta in. He enters, takes place hovering slightly over her bed. He pats the spot next to him, tilts his head at her in a silent invitation. She accepts it, sitting next to him.

"It it about your mother?"

"What makes you think its about her?" She sounds defensive.

He simply looks at her. "Angela told me it might have something to do with her."

Laughing, Fareeha crosses her arms, shifts uncomfortably. "Even if I told you what this was about, you wouldn't believe me."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised to find out I have much experience in the unbelievable." He chuckles, placing a hand to Fareeha's knee. "Nothing you say will shock me."

Fareeha finds comfort in Zenyatta's patient tone. Time passes, Zenyatta gives her the time she needs to collect herself. In the mean time he rubs small soothing circles on her knee, his orbs emitting a calming tone. "The Shrike. I...had sex with them." Silence, she continues. "A few days ago my mother...she told me she was the Shrike." A moment passes and still nothing. "Well?"

Fareeha does not know what the expect, but a laugh isn't even close to what she's thinking. "That is quite the predicament, now isn't it?"

"Why are you laughing?" Fareeha almost finds herself laughing from how ridiculous this all is. "Shouldn't you be disgusted with me?"

"Hardly. I was constructed in an omnium, I have no parental bonds towards those who created me, the only concept I have of a mother is purely by definition. Instead, you should be asking yourself, do _you_ feel disgusted by what you did?"

"Well, yeah, of course I am!" She tries to control her volume, doesn't want anyone to over hear them through the door. "It's not exactly normal to have sex with your mom, Zenyatta."

"That is true, but I did not ask if it was normal."

Fareeha's brow creases in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, did it feel right?" Fareeha does not answer, and he continues. "Sometimes what is right is not necessarily what is normal." Zenyatta floats off the bed, gives Fareeha's knee a firm squeeze, then moves to leave. "I suggest that you do not hide yourself from your mother for much longer. It shall only make things worse." And with that he exits her room, leaving her to mull over his advice. 

It would be three more days till she opens the door for her mother. 

\------------------------------------

She's beginning to think Fareeha will never answer the door. Mercy still gives her the cold shoulder whenever the walks past. At one point Zenyatta takes her hand, gives it a small shake, and leaves without a word. 

Still, every day she knocks on her door, in the hopes that one day she'll be let inside. And then one day, she hears a quiet, barely audible _it's open_. Cautiously she opens the door. There, curled up in a ball nestled up in her bed, is Fareeha. She's clutching the bed covers, peers over them at Ana then just in that same moment looks away.

Ana sits next to her on the bed, watches Fareeha scoot farther back to the corner of it. She looks so small in this moment, childish, like trying to hide away from her when she had done something bad when she was younger. 

Ana tries her best to sound motherly and patient, but it doesn't quite come out the same way as Mercy does. "Fareeha, we need to talk." She's moving closer up onto the bed, till she's now in front of her daughter. Carefully, she removes Fareeha from her blanket cocoon, its not easy, Fareeha fights her efforts, further alluding to a child upset with their mother. Giving up, instead of removing the blanket she works her way inside of it, crawls her way from the bottom to the top. Fareeha gives her room to be inside of it with her, still not looking her in the eye. "Fareeha," 

Arms wrap around her, and Fareeha is nuzzling her face to the crook of Ana's neck. The action shocks Ana, enough to silence her. Instead of speaking she returns the affection, hugging Fareeha, kissing the top of her head, running a hand through her hair. The two sit in silence, simply existing in each others company. 

Then, Ana is feeling lips on her neck, teeth nipping at the skin and wet tongue licking at the marks left in its wake. Ana tenses, hand in Fareeha's hair tightens, and when Fareeha groans she stops, pushes her away from the spot on her neck. "Fareeha, stop, we can't." Fareeha's looking up at her, dark eyes desperate and needy. It causes the hairs on the back of her neck to stand straight and for her breath to get caught in her chest. "It's not appropriate."

"Please." Fareeha's voice is small, vulnerable, like it was all those weeks ago. It awakens something in Ana, that desire, and she cups Fareeha's face in her hands. "You've done so much for me, I wan't to return the favor." And then her lips are pressed to hers, warm and desperate. She's pressing her tongue to Ana's lips, and she opens her mouth, lets her tongue pet at hers, and she moans. 

Fareeha unwraps the two of them, lies Ana down on the bed and crawls up her body. Ana wants to stop her, to put an end to this right now but their kiss leaves her mind fuzzy and her daughter looks so beautiful above her. She resumes kissing at her neck, hands splay at her belly and go up, up, lifting her shirt up. 

She kisses up her jaw, licks the shell of her ear and feels her shiver beneath her. "I want to make you feel good, mother." 

The words make Ana groan, hands going up the grip at Fareeha's shirt, urging her to remove it. Fareeha sits up, straddling her mothers lap. She makes a show of removing her shirt, grinding against her as she takes the hem of her shirt and lifts it up, over her head, slowly, showing off her physique. The eye on her does not go unnoticed. She smiles down at her as she tosses her shirt to the floor. 

She takes a hold of her mother's hands, lead them to her abs. "You can touch me, I want you to." Her voice is low, husky. A moment of hesitation passes through Ana before she takes the chance to feel up the hard muscle of her abdomen, dip down to her hip bones past the hem of her pants, trying to tug them down. "So eager, momma." Fareeha leads her hands lower, feels the course hair of her mound through her fingers. "Did you miss touching me?"

"Yes," Ana sighs, bucks her hips against Fareeha. Then Fareeha is lifting Ana's hands above her head, she keeps them there as Fareeha removes her shirt, leaves kisses to the skin revealed once it's tossed to the floor. She tugs at her collar bone with her teeth, presses wet kisses between her breasts and down her belly. She grabs at Ana's pants, tugs them down along with her underwear down to her ankles, and is now situating herself between her mother's legs.

Fareeha sinks down, lifting one of Ana's legs to place it over her shoulder. She looks up at her mother, nuzzling her cheek against her thigh. Ana glances down at her, dark eyes captivating her, she runs a hand through Fareeha's hair, fingers tangling in inky locks and tugging. In that moment Fareeha's mouth is on her and she moans, presses Fareeha closer to her. Her tongue licks in broad strokes, dips down to tease at her entrance and up to circle around her clit. Ana's legs quiver, and Fareeha will sometimes stop her ministrations, much to Ana's dismay, to kiss her her shaking thighs. 

"Fareeha," She whines, voice hoarse. Her chest heaves, this is all so wrong. This isn't what she wanted when she first entered Fareeha's room, but now it's all that filled her mind, Fareeha's hands on her thighs, her mouth on her sex. It's overwhelming, and suddenly lips encase her clit and sucks, and she's bucking into Fareeha's mouth. She's biting her knuckles to dull her noises, it becomes increasingly harder when Fareeha hums against her, the feeling resonating from her clit up to her chest. 

Fareeha's hands paw up her sides up to her clothed breasts, thumbs circling her nipples. She's not stopping Ana's hips from moving, so she does so freely, pushing herself up against Fareeha's mouth. Ana could feel her body shake and convulse, Fareeha so passionate the feeling already too much. It was clear this is what Fareeha wanted. And before Ana would convince herself that it was the Shrike that wanted this.

But perhaps, this is what Ana wanted, too.


End file.
